


I've got a renegade heart (and it's screaming his name)

by LiviKate



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Asexual Raphael Santiago, Asexuality, BDSM, Daddy Kink, Dom Raphael Santiago, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Masturbation, Sub Simon Lewis, Subdrop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-02-01 11:50:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12704427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiviKate/pseuds/LiviKate
Summary: “Brush your teeth while I get dressed,” Raphael ordered, and Simon did as he was bid. He wondered, idly as he brushed, staring at himself in the mirror, if Raphael knew what he was doing, or if this was just what came natural to him. Giving gentle orders, taking care of his partner, telling him he was a good boy. Simon didn’t care, he loved all of it.\Or, Simon finds his space to be small with Raphael getting smaller and smaller.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title from 'Girls Your Age' by Transviolet, which, though gendered, is applicable to the themes of this fic.

Night had just begun to fall and Simon was rudely being roused from sleep.

“No,” he whimpered, burrowing deeper into his pillow.

“I’m sorry, mi amor, but you have to get up,” came the soft response, and a cool hand brushed over his cheek. Simon leaned into it, sighed contently. He could go right back to sleep at any moment. “I know you’re tired, querido, but we have to get up.”

“I don’t wanna,” he mumbled petulantly, his brow furrowing as he stubbornly fought to keep his eyes closed.

“You have to get dressed, Simon,” his partner chided, and Simon felt him get up and out of bed. That made him whine even harder.

“Do it for me,” he said, with a pouted lip and tightly closed eyes.

“If I help you get dressed will you wake up?” From farther away, Simon heard, “Lord knows you wear my clothes most days anyway.” He smiled and yawned happily, content to lay in his million thread count sheets that Raphael was ridiculous particular about, and wait for his boyfriend to return. He actually succeeded in dozing back off for at least a few moments before his partner was back, roughly pulling the blankets down.

“No,” he whined in protest, curling up into a small ball on his side of the bed.

“Ay, dios mio,” Raphael grumbled, but he sounded unbelievably fond, and when Simon cracked his eyes open to look up into the face of the man who had betrayed him so cruelly, he saw only softness there. “Up,” he said, grabbing him by the arms and gently pulling him to seated. He then grabbed his knees and tugged him to the edge of the bed. Simon immediately slumped forward, pressing his forehead into his partner’s neck and closing his eyes. “Don’t fall back asleep,” Raphael admonished, squeezing the back of his neck and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. With a direct order like that, Simon could hardly disobey. He pressed a light kiss to his collarbone and nodded his head.

“That’s a good boy,” Raphael praised him, and it made a pleasant shiver run down his spine. The morning frown slid off his face as he let himself be pulled and tugged on, comfy pajamas disappearing and luxurious clothes that smelled like Raph were buttoned onto him. “Be a good fledgling and stand up for me,” Raphael murmured to him, when he had a shirt and waistcoat done up and a tie tied smartly. Simon slid from the edge of the bed and his partner guided his feet into dark slacks with gentle hands on his calves. When he pulled them up, standing up and tugging them up around his waist, Simon met him with a sweet kiss. Raphael startled slightly, as he was usually the one to initiate kisses, but he hummed into in nonetheless. Deftly tucking, buttoning and zipping Simon up, Raphael stepped back to admire his work. He nodded, self-assuredly, and Simon preened at the approval, even though he had done nothing to earn it.

“Brush your teeth while I get dressed,” Raphael ordered, and Simon did as he was bid. He wondered, idly as he brushed, staring at himself in the mirror, if Raphael knew what he was doing, or if this was just what came natural to him. Giving gentle orders, taking care of his partner, telling him he was a good boy. Simon didn’t care, he loved all of it. “Remember your fangs,” Raphael said, coming into the bathroom to tie his tie in the mirror. Simon did as he was told, dropping his fangs and hissing playfully at his boyfriend. Raphael chuckled, rolling his eyes before starting on his hair.

When Simon spit and rinsed, he set his brush down and then sat down himself, back against the counter and his forehead pressed to Raphael’s thigh.

“Don’t fall back asleep,” Raphael scolded gently, and Simon pretended not to hear him, letting out a quiet sigh, the words “Yes, Daddy,” kept in his mouth by sheer force of will.

Because if Raphael didn’t know what he was doing, didn’t know what he was to Simon, then saying it could ruin everything. And there was nothing Simon wanted more than to just be a good boy.

 

Meetings that day went excruciatingly slowly. Simon knew he shouldn’t have stayed out that late with the shadowhunters, but Magnus had been at the institute working with them, and had promised Simon a portal home whenever they were finished, so he couldn’t use the sun as an excuse to come home at a timely fashion. He’d texted Raph and gotten only a frowny face in return. He’d rolled his eyes and sent back a fangy face and tried to ignore the little twinge in his chest that said his partner was truly mad at him. By the time they solved whatever mystery the shadowhunters were dealing with, a race that frankly Simon didn’t have a leg in and didn’t need to be there for, it was well after the sun had risen and everyone, who had been supposed to sleep that night, was twice as tired as Simon must’ve been, and he was exhausted.

Magnus portaled him home, and Simon didn’t want to know how he knew to plop him directly outside Raphael’s door, but he was thankful anyway. He knew he could get scolded for coming in late, and that if he were smart he would do everything in his supernatural power to not wake his boyfriend up. But he wasn’t smart, he was tired and needy, and as soon as he was dressed for bed he wiggled as close to his partner’s side as possible. Raphael stirred in his sleep and tried to push him away, but Simon just whined in the back of his throat and tried to burrow underneath him until Raphael woke up enough to wrap his arm around him.

“Quiet, Simon, go to sleep,” he grumbled, still sounding mostly asleep himself. Simon twisted around underneath his arm, wiggling until he was close enough to press his face into his neck. He dropped feathery kisses across his shoulder in happy apology. “It’s fine, you’re a good fledgling,” Raphael murmured, almost entirely asleep again, but Simon preened anyway. It didn’t take long after that, wrapped up tightly and already forgiven, for Simon to drift off for a few hours of much needed rest.

But it was also a few hours too few, and Simon was starting to sway on his feet at about midafternoon. One vampire myth that he was terribly sad wasn’t true is that, contrary to Stephanie Meyer, vampires still need to sleep. And Simon had always been someone who required a lot of sleep. And he got both bratty and clingy when tired.

He was standing behind and to the left of Raphael’s chair, hands clasped in front of him, supposedly to look important and intimidating as Raphael vaguely threatened the other clan leader with an audit. Simon didn’t really buy the idea of being the scary accountant, but if Raphael thought the other vamps would, it was worth a try. They seemed to, eyes flickering from Raphael’s hauntingly slow and quiet threats to Simon’s slightly bored and uncaring expression. Simon didn’t even know there was a clan in Maine to worry about. They left with a deferential nod to them both and a promise to share a meal together before they left for home.

As soon as they closed the door, Simon sagged where he stood.

“Oh my fuck, that took _forever_ ,” he groaned, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes.

“You wouldn’t be so tired if you’d come home at a reasonable hour,” Raphael said smartly, causing Simon to glare at him.

“I know, alright? I’m suffering enough, I don’t need you rubbing it in.”

“Poor, baby,” Raphael tsked, unsympathetically. He made a big show of stacking the papers on his desk and setting them aside, ignoring Simon as he squirmed on his feet.

“Are you mad at me?” Simon finally asked, putting his hand on the top of Raphael’s chair, picking at the leather seam.

“No, I’m not mad,” Raphael sighed after a moment, turning his chair towards his boyfriend. “But I do get annoyed when you don’t take care of yourself.” His brow was soft and Simon took that as permission to clamber into his lab. Raphael groaned at his sharp bones dug into him as he got comfortable, but he didn’t shove him off like he used to.

“I’ve got you to take care of me,” Simon said, face pressed into his shoulder.

“I could use a little help, you know,” Raphael groused, but his arms wrapped up around his back and he squeezed him. “You’re a walking disaster, always getting yourself into trouble.”

“Ah, yes, but I’ve got a scary vampire boyfriend to get me out of trouble,” Simon observed. “He’s very important, I slept my way to the top.”

Now Raphael did shove him out of his lap, laughing as he did so.

“Uh huh, sure you did,” he smirked as Simon pouted at him from the floor. He leaned down, cupping his jaw and turning his face up towards him. “I don’t need you for the next meeting, why don’t you go up and take a nap?” Simon nuzzled into his palm.

“Will you come up after and lay with me?” he asked, looking down, embarrassed, but not enough to keep himself from asking.

“Would you like that?” Raphael asked, a smirk on his face clearly communicating that he just wanted Simon to say it.

“Yes, please,” he said, surprising him with politeness and batting eyelashes. His boyfriend rolled his eyes at his dramatics and pushed his face away good-naturedly. “Really,” Simon said, wiggling forwards and propping his chin on his knee. “I missed you yesterday, I barely got to see you.”

“And who’s fault is that?”

“Mine,” Simon whined pressing his forehead into his pant leg. “Please take pity on me, great and terrifying leader. Your humble servant only wants to bask in your presence.” Simon grinned as a deep laugh bubbled up out of Raphael’s chest. He earned real laughs like that so rarely, Simon immediately felt better for putting a smile like that on his partner’s face.

“Alright, fine,” he said, running his hand through Simon’s hair gently. “I’ll come up and join you as soon as I’m done for the day.” Simon grinned at him and leapt to his feet. He planted his hands on the arms of his chair and leaned in to plant a loud kiss on his lips. Raphael chuckled into it and Simon counted that as another win. He was loosening his tie before he was even out the door, and his waistcoat was undone by the time he made it out of the elevator. He knew Raphael would be mad if he left his nice clothes lying on the floor, so Simon was careful to drape them over the chaise at the foot of the bed. He jumped back into his pajamas and back into bed, trading pillows with Raphael’s side of the bed and burying his face into a pillow smelling like hair gel and boyfriend.

He took a deep breath and tried to relax. He thought about being folded at Raphael’s feet, behind his giant oak desk, forehead pressed to his thigh, Raph’s hand in his hair. He thought about the giddy pride that he felt when he made him laugh. He thought about the hand in his hair turning hard and strong, yanking his neck back and Raphael telling him he was pretty.

He groaned, turning his face into the pillow, trying not too think about how soft it was, too soft, not as real as Raphael’s thumb would be against his cheek. His dick twitched underneath him and Simon groaned. He flopped onto his back and tried to not think about it. But then he thought of Raphael standing over him, a shiny Italian leather shoe pressing down on his chest, hands in his pockets, observing him disinterestedly. Simon’s cock throbbed.

Throwing off the blankets, Simon grabbed his shoebox from the closet and locked himself in the bathroom. He shouldn’t have been surprised, it had been awhile since he’d gotten himself off, but he always felt a little guilty. Raphael always knew, wrinkling his nose in that adorable way that he did, looking at Simon like he wasn’t something he understood. Simon didn’t like that look. It made him feel like he was doing something wrong.

But he knew by now that his libido as not to be ignored—he’d tried abstaining before, and it ended up with Raphael choosing to sleep on the couch for a few nights after being accidently prodded by Simon’s erection while they were asleep. It had all been very awkward, Raphael had clearly felt uncomfortable in his own room, and Simon felt unbelievably guilty. So, in a truly horrifying conversation with Raphael, Simon asked if he could keep a box of toys in his side of the closet, to alleviate his tensions when they arose. Raphael had looked away uncomfortably and informed him that he didn’t need his permission in order to masturbate, saying that he had no claim or control over his sex life, and that if he wanted to have sex with other people, that was fine with him, too, as long as he maintained discretion. Simon had nodded, with a tight lipped smile and promptly locked himself in the bathroom to cry.

He hadn’t had sex with anyone else. He didn’t want to have sex with anyone else. He wanted Raphael to _not_ want him to have sex with anyone else, but he settled for making sure that Raphael knew there was never anybody else. And he’d gotten very good at taking care of things himself.

Dropping his shoebox on the edge of the tub and stripping out of his clothes, Simon knelt on the bathmat. After a few seconds of flexing his toes in the soft fabric, Simon shuffled back, taking the box with him and kneeling on the hard floor. He took the lube out of the box and slicked his fingers. He used warming lube, something that he’d hated when he was human but adored now that he was a vampire and perpetually chilled.

He leaned down to rest his chest on the cold floor, reaching behind himself to stroke over his hole. He imagined the door opening, Raphael’s shiny black shoes and perfectly tailored slacks coming into view. He imagined the vampire standing in the doorway, watching him, saying nothing. His cheeks started to heat with fabricated embarrassment.

 _‘Is that all you can do?’_ he imagined, slow and dangerous, in that tone Raphael always used when he was in trouble. He whimpered to himself, pushing two fingers in too quickly. It hurt in that perfect burn, that tingling ache that made his thighs quiver. _‘That’s better, baby, what a good boy.’_ Simon gasped, his unnecessary breath condensing on the marble floor in front of his face. He imagined his partner coming closer, walking up behind him. He inched his knees further apart, imagining Raphael roughly kicking them apart. Twisting his wrist, he tilted his hips up, giving Raphael the best view possible as he scraped over his prostate. He let his eyes drift shut, imagining Raphael walking around him in a slow circle, observing.

 _‘Stop,’_ he imagined hearing, once he knew he was ready. _‘Show me what you can do, baby. Be good for Daddy.’_ Simon’s hands were shaking slightly as he grabbed his dildo from the box, the one with the suction cup on the bottom.

 _‘How do you want me?’_ he imagined himself asking, not daring to make eye contact, his head tilted to the side, exposing his neck.

 _‘On the floor. I wanna see you ride it. Bruise your knees for Daddy, so I can kiss them better,’_ said the Raphael in his head, coming close enough to squat down in front of him, taking in the light blush on his cheeks, as dark as his vampire blood would ever let him flush. His fangs were out, poking into his bottom lip, and Simon imagined his hand was Raphael’s when he stroked over his lip, pushing it into a fang until it broke skin, blood welling up and trailing down his chin. He imagined Raphael wiping his thumb off on his trousers and stepping back, gesturing for him to get on with it.

Simon did, eagerly, licking over his wounded lip and hastily sticking the toy to the floor. He slicked it with lube, getting his whole palm messy and wet, causing him to slip when he tried to brace himself on the floor. He heard a cold chuckle in his head. _‘So clumsy, my clumsy little fledgling.’_

 _‘Yes, Daddy, I’m sorry.’_ This time his lip bled through the force of keeping the words in as the toy pressed into his hole. He didn’t say anything when he gasped towards the ceiling, slowly sinking down the toy, halting an inch or so from the base.

 _‘No, take the whole thing,’_ he heard. _‘You can do that for me, can’t you baby?’_

“Yes,” Simon whimpered. “Yeah, Daddy,” he pushed down, gasping high and reedy when it his asscheeks met the base, the balls of the toy pressing against his rim.

_‘Good, so good. Now ride it.’_

Simon let his head hang, hands braced on the floor in front of him, snapping his hips fast. He wanted to go slow, to build it up, but he knew Raphael wouldn’t want him to, so he started a punishing rhythm and maintained it. His knees ached on the marble and he could feel his dick leaking, slapping against his stomach with each thrust and leaving sticky trails of precome.

 _‘You take it so well,’_ he wished, the words drifting through the endorphin fog of his brain. _‘You were made for this.’_

“Yeah,” Simon panted, head nodding loosely, lolling on his neck.

_‘You want to come, don’t you?’_

“Yes,” Simon hissed, wanting it so bad.

 _‘Do you deserve it?’_ he imagined Raphael asking, leaning against the counter, arms crossed, staring at him dispassionately. _‘Have you been a good boy?’_

“Yes, yes, fuck, I’ve been a good boy,” Simon panted, hips beginning to burn, knees beginning to ache. “Please, Daddy? Please, I’ve been good.”

 _‘You have been good, haven’t you, baby?’_ He squeezed his eyes shut and imagined Raphael right in front of him, hand on his sweaty cheek, murmuring to him intimate and low. _‘Why don’t you come for me? Touch yourself and come for Daddy.’_

Simon did, hand flying over his cock with a fury, desperately chasing that edge, eager to tip over. His thighs locked as he came, his whole body clamping down around the toy, his teeth digging into his lip to keep from screaming. When he slumped forward, he wished with every part of himself that he could be leaning forward into his partner’s strong chest. He wanted to feel gentle hands on him so badly as he came down from the high that the cool marble was almost soothing, reminiscent of his love’s cold touch.

When he’d caught his unnecessary breath, and his head was spinning a little slower, he pulled himself up from the floor. Cleaning up meticulously, Simon washed the toy in the sink, washed his hands twice, and drug a wet cloth over himself. He turned on the fan, packed his stuff back into its little box and walked back into the bedroom on shaky legs. He stashed the box back in its place, crawled into fresh pajamas and collapsed on the bed.

He knew he wouldn’t sleep until Raphael was here with him. Ever since his fantasies got as involved and intense as they were, he needed a little comfort from his partner before he could really feel settled again. He knew it was ridiculous, to masturbate so enthusiastically that his emotional state was altered, but he didn’t question it too much. His fantasies were so real, he wanted them so badly, that in the moment it felt like they were happening. And if it meant that he had to spend a few minutes shivering and alone in bed while the bathroom aired out, well that was okay.

The door to the bedroom opened soon after Simon had spooned himself up around Raphael’s pillow.

“Raph,” Simon called softly, immediately opening his arms to him.

“I thought you’d be napping,” his partner said, as he made his way into the room, carefully shedding his clothes.

“Couldn’t sleep without you,” Simon mumbled, a half-truth. As Raphael came closer to the bed and into Simon’s field of view, he caught his nose wrinkle as he cast a look towards the open bathroom door. He took a few quick steps away to grab the doorknob and yank it closed. Simon flinched at the bang and pouted at him.

“I didn’t excuse you from work so you could do… that,” Raphael said, rolling his eyes at him.

“You told me you wanted me to take better care of myself,” Simon said, trying not to feel embarrassed. He fidgeted anyway, playing with the seam of Raphael’s pillow. “Can you come cuddle me?”

“Fine, move over,” Raphael said, pulling his pillow away from his arms and sliding into it’s place. “Did you wash your hands?”

“Twice,” Simon grinned proudly. Raphael smiled softly at him and settled down against his pillow, pulling his partner in against his chest.

“Will you sleep now?” Raphael asked.

“Fuck, yes,” he sighed, snuggling into his chest. “Thanks, Raph,” he said on a whisper, squeezing his boyfriend tightly.

“Of course, mi amor,” he said in response, dipping his head to press a kiss into his curls. “You can ask me for anything.”

Simon drifted off wishing that that were true.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes the angst

Lily knew something. Even if she didn’t know what she knew, she sensed something.

First thing the next night, as Simon was in the kitchen blearily pouring out mugs of blood to bring back upstairs to Raph as a treat for coddling him the day before, Lily snuck up next to him.

“Little baby making his own bottle today?” she asked, taking the mug out of his hand and taking a long drink. Simon rolled his eyes and grabbed another one. “Where’s your daddy?”

“Still in bed,” Simon answered, trying to keep his expression bored and neutral, not wanting anyone else to know that the word sent shivers down his spine.

“Well tell him we have clan business today,” she said, jumping up with inhumane grace to perch on the counter. Simon watched the timer on the microwave tick down. “Meetings that he can’t call off just because his baby boy is cranky.”

“He said he was done for the day,” Simon said, shocked, giving away his hand.

“I knew it,” Lily shouted, punching at the air. She looked decades younger, in a huge tshirt and her face clean of makeup. “I knew he totally stuck me with the fucking Jersey clan so he could go up and snuggle with you, or whatever you two do.”

“Snuggling about covers it,” Simon smirked smugly at her as the microwave dinged.

“Do you ever get bored of that?” she asked, and it was only because Raphael had told him so much about her that he caught the suddenly shrewd look in her eye, at odds with her flippant tone.

“No,” he said firmly, reaching to grab the mug from the microwave and burning himself for his trouble.

“Simon, I’m not trying to trap you,” Lily sighed, lowering her voice and looking at him earnestly. “I know he told you you can see other people on the side. I just want to make sure you’re picking the right ones, ones that won’t use your relationship to undermine Raphael’s leadership.”

“I’m not seeing anyone else,” Simon said, carefully lifting the mug by the handle and grabbing his own. “I don’t _want_ to see anyone else. I don’t want anyone other than him.”

“Fine, be that way,” she said, hoping down with a flounce. “But I’d rather you have a plan instead of breaking one day and begging some rando to fuck you because Daddy doesn’t want to.” There was something too knowing, too intentional in the way she used that nickname for Simon to brush it off. So instead he just left, moving as fast as he could without spilling. He still heard her sigh to the empty kitchen.

Kink had always been part of Simon’s romantic and sexual relationships. He was drawn to dominant personality types, he was eager to have someone to support, someone to please. He craved praise and soft words, he wanted to make people smile and laugh, he wanted to _be good._ When Raphael had told him he was ace and wouldn’t be having any sort of sex with him, Simon had adapted. He found satisfaction in other ways, and spent small moments with Raphael being small and intimate in a nonsexual context. And it was good, it was plenty; Raphael was such a soft Dom, even if he didn’t know he was doing it. Part of it might have been their decades wide age difference, it might have been the way Raphael had trained him at the beginning of his undead life, but Raphael still treated Simon like a fledgling and most of the time, Simon _loved it._

There were long days in the office when Simon would take a rest, leaning his back against Raphael’s absurdly ornate desk and rest lay his in Raphael’s lap. Sometimes the older vampire would absently pet his hair as be continued doing his work. He always asked Simon if he’d eaten and if he was warm enough, sometimes bringing him blood that he’d already sipped to carefully check the temperature of, and covering him in blankets that he would tuck in close around his feet. Simon liked watching movies curled up against him, he liked the way Raphael held his hand when they went out anywhere, claiming he didn’t want him getting lost.

But whatever their dynamic was, it was unspoken. Their carefully forged relationship was maintained through nonverbal communication and a subtle give and take. Simon was always afraid that if he ever admitted his kinks to Raphael , even as innocent as some of them were, that they would make him uncomfortable. He didn’t want Raphael to think that every part of their relationship was sexual to Simon; he didn’t know that Raphael would fully understand how it worked. He didn’t want to say anything that would ruin their carefully curated love. So sometimes, when he started feeling vulnerable, he acted out.

He had planned on waking Raphael up leisurely, with a gentle neck and back massage, before handing him his blood with a kiss. Instead, Simon found himself placing both their mugs on Raphael’s bedside table and clambering in on top of him.

“Ay, qué—” Raphael woke with a start, stomach flexing as if to sit up with a lurch, but Simon flattened him back down. “Simon, what the fuck?”

“I went to get blood and I just missed you so much,” Simon said with a lightness he didn’t completely feel.

“A whole five minutes without me and you lose all sense?” Raphael grumbled, shoving Simon off to his side of the bed.

“It was truly the worst five minutes of my life,” Simon said, nodding, reaching across his disgruntledly partner to grab his mug. “Now drink your painstakingly microwaved blood and tell me you love me.”

“Right now, I’m barely tolerating you.” On a normal night, Simon would’ve laughed and said something snarky in return. But on this night Simon just sipped his blood and told himself it was a joke over and over until he started to believe it.

 

The clan was going out to a club. The clan was going out to a club and lately Raphael had been in a terrible mood. Simon hoped that a night of fun and celebration would make him feel better. He’d been wound tightly, lately, snapping at Simon and tossing out biting remarks that actually hurt instead of just being his usual snarky self. There were times when Simon would want to cuddle and be small and Raphael would just roll over in bed and pretend to sleep. It had started to take a toll on Simon, causing him to bottle up a lot of his feelings and focus on doing whatever he could to make Raphael more comfortable in his own skin.

Clubbing sometimes did that. It gave Raphael an opportunity to relax a little, get drunk and just be one of the vamps. He never lost control, always maintained his role as a leader, but he knew it was important to loosen up every now and then. It also helped bond the clan, making them trust Raphael as not just a leader but a person. Raphael had admitted to Simon once that when he was rising through Camille’s ranks, he’d done so many idiotic and foolish things as a young vampire that getting a little drunk on a peaceful Friday night would be far from the worst thing some of the more senior clan members had ever seen from him.

Besides, getting drunk at Magnus’ club when there were no foreign representatives in town was a pretty low pressure gig. Simon could tell Raphael was looking forward to it, and he tried to contain his own excitement of having some quality fun time with his boyfriend and the clan. He even dressed himself, leaping proudly out of the bathroom, freshly showered and in his best jeans and a nice shirt. He grinned at his partner as he was tying his shoes.

“How do I look?” he asked, hopefully. He’d spent more than enough time fussing with the curls in his hair. Raphael looked up at him and softened, for the first time in days, the slope of his shoulders relaxed and the furrow between his brows disappeared.

“You look lovely, Simon,” he said, and it was the first piece of genuine praise he had gotten in a week. He beamed and scrambled up to sit behind his boyfriend, wrapping around him with arms and legs, hooking his chin over his shoulder.

“I’m excited for tonight,” he confessed quietly. “It will be really nice to have some time off. Together.”

“Yeah,” Raphael agreed, leaning into Simon’s clingy grip before patting his hands to be released and standing up. “Ready?”

“Yeah, babe, let’s go.” Simon hopped to his feet, grabbed onto Raphael’s hand and refused to let go.

 

Walking into the club, Simon could tell that maybe he was hanging on a little too hard to Raphael, but he was finally smiling again and enjoying himself, and Simon was just happy to see it again. He let the clan leader pull him through the crowd, content to follow wherever he led. They settled at a ring of tables, high level clan members and closer friends gathering around.

“Fledgling, come help with drinks,” Stan called and Simon was loath to let go of Raphael’s hand, but when the older vamp whispered his order in his ear and kissed his cheek, Simon would do anything to keep him smiling.

“Yeah, okay,” he said easily, smiling dopily at his partner and getting a fond eye roll in response.

He followed behind Stan easily enough, getting a little jostled along the way but mostly staying with the taller man. Stan placed the orders for the rest of the clan, easily catching the attention of the Seelie bartender. He leaned over his shoulder to shout for two of Raphael’s order and tried to lean against the counter in a way that might look smooth and cool. If the way Stan scoffed was any indication, it wasn’t working.

“You seem excited to be out,” Stan observed with a quirked brow. Simon wondered if eyebrow skills were part of the vampire package.

“I am,” he said, nodding a little too enthusiastically. “It’s good to be out, I’m looking toward to having a little fun.”

“Good, I’m glad you’re keeping an open mind.” Simon frowned at that, and thought about asking what he meant, but then the bartender returned with a tray of drink and Simon was quickly directed with grabbing his and Raph’s.

Making their way back to the table was much more difficult. Stan had his tray perched high over his head while Simon lead the way, careful to keep his drinks from splashing. By the time the emerged through the crowd of people, Simon was licking a small spill off the back of his hand. They returned to their table and the clan swarmed Stan’s tray of drinks, leaving Simon’s path relatively undisturbed.

“Here you go, babe,” he said, sliding in next to his partner, handing him his drink and dropping a kiss on his cheek. Raphael leaned into him, helping to soothe the wrinkle of hurt the last week of short temper had caused. Simon let his arm rest along the back of the booth and sipped his drink. It was delicious, bloody and definitely very alcoholic. He wanted to dance but knew better than to push Raphael before he was ready. Besides, he was happy to spend time quietly sitting with him, occasionally joining in on conversation but mostly just enjoying having his partner relaxed and comfortable under his arm.

It was after their second round of drinks that Raphael tilted his head back against his arm to look at him.

“Would you like to dance, mi amor?” His voice was warm and silky and Simon was powerless to say anything but “Please.”

The dancefloor was crowded, but Simon didn’t mind the occasional brush of a stranger against his back, not when he had his partner pressed to his front. Simon kept his grip on one hand, fingers tangled together, and Raphael looped the other around his waist, pulling them into the same space. They moved clumsily together, or rather, Simon moved clumsily, until he wrapped his other arm around Raphael’s neck, allowing him to lean against the other man and follow his lead. Raphael’s hand on his hip squeezed lovingly and they fell into a smooth rhythm, Raphael leading them in a bachata-like dance, perfectly on the beat put down by the DJ.

Eventually Simon released his hand, letting his palm rest flat against the soft material of his partner’s shirt, curling around his ribs.

“I missed this,” he said into Raphael’s ear, trusting that vampire hearing would overcome the pounding of the bass.

“Dancing?”

“You,” he corrected simply, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“I’m right here,” Raphael said easily, and it soothed something inside Simon that he didn’t even know was broken. He held on to his partner a little tighter and danced a little closer. Raphael chuckled at him but permitted it for a song or two before he finally pulled back.

“I’m going to get another drink,” he said.

“I’ll come with,” Simon agreed easily, following the other man as he headed towards the bar, their pinkies linked to keep them together in the crowd. They’d only gone a few paces before Simon felt an arm loop around his waist. He jolted to a stop and Raphael looked back to see what was the matter.

There was a truly uncomfortable moment as Simon felt someone’s body press up against his and saw Raphael actually grin at whoever it was behind him.

“Ah, Mason, it’s good to see you,” Raphael said, stepping back towards them.

“Um,” Simon said trying to shift out of this Mason’s grip. His arm was loose, not constricting, and he gave Simon room when he indicated that he needed it.

“It’s good to see you, too,” the man said, and Simon was able to turn enough to get a good look at him. He could’ve been Raphael’s brother. He had the same modest height, strong brow and tall hair. His eyes were a more greenish brown than Raphael’s but he had the same obnoxiously appealing lips.

“This is Simon,” Raphael introduced, placing a hand high on his back.

“Nice to meet you,” Simon said haltingly, looking between the two vampires. There was a charge to the exchange that Simon didn’t fully understand.

“The pleasure is mine, I assure you,” Mason said, taking Simon’s hand and bringing it to his lips.

“Um,” Simon stuttered, looking back at his _boyfriend_. But Raphael was just smiling benignly at him.

“Would you like to dance?” Mason asked. Simon’s brow creased with confusion, looking between this stranger and Raphael beseechingly.

“He would love to,” Raphael answered for him, sounding oddly formal. The hand on his back pushed him closer to the other vampire. “You’ll take good care of him?”

“Of course,” Mason said, slipping an arm around his waist.

“Raph?” Simon asked, confused as to what was actually going on. Mason’s hand was gentle where it touched him, not crowding or threatening, and his smile was coaxing without being cloying. Still, Simon didn’t know why he was here.

“Go have fun with Mason,” Raphael said to him, encouragingly. “He’s an old friend of mine, I’m sure you will have a lovely time.” Without another word, Raphael turned and disappeared into the crowd.

“Did that seem weird to you?” Simon asked, and Mason threw his head back and laughed. It was a nice laugh, the kind that seemed genuine and joyful. Simon eased a little at earning a laugh like that.

“Does it seem weird to you?” Mason asked, stepping a little closer and putting his mouth closer to his ear.

“A little,” Simon nodded. “Raphael doesn’t usually trust me to be alone with important people. He says I never know when to stop talking.”

“I can absolutely imagine that,” Mason said with a chuckle, but it was good-natured and not mean. “But I’m not that important,” he shrugged. “Unless you’re looking for a dance partner. In which case, I am very important.” Simon chuckled with an edgy of nervousness. But if he was good friends with Raphael, Simon did want to make a good impression.

“I’ll admit, I’m not the best dancer,” Simon said, but he turned to face the other man more completely.

“Don’t worry, I'm a good lead,” Mason said with a winning grin and he gently pulled Simon into a dance.

He _was_ a good lead. And he was handsome. He wasn’t too handsy and he smelled nice. Still, Simon wasn’t overly sure why he was dancing with _him._ They danced with a friendly distance between them for a few minutes, before Mason’s hand tightened on his waist, reeling him in a few steps closer.

“Um,” Simon said, eloquently, when Mason’s thigh nudged it’s way between his own.

“Is this okay?” Mason asked, dancing a little closer, letting the long muscle of his thigh rub against Simon’s.

“Not really,” Simon responded, grinding to a halt on the dancefloor. “You know, Raphael and I are kind of together. Like, very together. As in, I love him very much.”

“I know,” Mason said, a charming frown puckering his lips. “That’s why Raphael invited me here. For you.”

“I don’t understand,” Simon said, stuttering as the back of his neck started to prickle uncomfortably.

“Raphael thought you might like me,” Mason said, looking just as confused and uncomfortable as Simon was. He also stopped dancing and moved a few inches away, as much as was possible in the pulsating crowd. “He thought we would hit it off, and I could help you take the edge off.”

“He set us up?” Simon asked, his voice rising embarrassingly in pitch. “To _have sex?_ ”

“Yeah…” the other vamp said slowly, as if he didn’t know why Simon was surprised. As if he expected Simon to have expected this, to have _wanted_ this. Simon didn’t. Simon didn’t even want to think about it. His good mood was crashing and there was a faint ringing in his ears.

“I need to go,” he said quietly, repeating it louder as he stepped away.

“Wait, Simon, let me walk you home,” Mason said, looking concerned.

“No, I’m fine, I’m not drunk, I just need to go,” Simon shook off his hand and turned to start wading his way through the crowd.

Mason had seemed like a genuinely good guy, so Simon thought he would probably make his way back to Raphael before long and let him know that he went home, so Simon didn’t stop to talk to anyone from his clan before he stepped out into the humid air of a Brooklyn night. It was well after three in the morning, and the streets were mostly empty as Simon walked back to the hotel, but he still felt crowded by all the thoughts in his head.

Why would Raphael do something like that? Simon knew that he had permission to sleep with other people, but he’d also made it clear to Raphael that he had no interest in taking advantage of that. He wondered if Raphael _wanted_ to share him, got off one sharing him. But why wouldn’t they have talked about that? If Raphael had a kinky side, why hadn’t they had a conversation, why hadn’t they just been honest with each other? And if it wasn’t a kink thing, then why would Raphael go through all the trouble of setting him up on what was basically a date?

Simon was angry, in a pent up, frustrated sort of anger, annoyed that Raphael would do something like this without asking, and ruin what was supposed to be a fun night for them together. And that anger was making his skin feel a little flushed and made his heart ache to start pounding again in his chest. He thought about the way it had felt to dance chest to chest with his boyfriend, how good it at felt to be close to him. He thought about how badly he wanted Raphael to know that he was it for him, he was _everything_ to him. He wanted to _show_ Raphael how much he wanted him and only him.

He burst into vampire speed to get him the rest of the way home as his cock began to fill in his jeans. He raced up towards the penthouse, not stopping to talk to any of the few clan members who had opted to stay home and were quietly playing cards in the lounge. He closed the bedroom door behind him with a slam and immediately locked himself into the bathroom.

He stripped out of his clothes, not caring when a seam in his shirt popped from the rough treatment. Stepping into the shower, he cranked the water up to high heat, to wash off the feeling of someone else’s hands on him. He grabbed Raphael’s favorite soap and poured it into his hands, rubbing messily up his chest and his neck and then down his stomach to wrap around his swelling cock. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose, taking in the smell of Raphael and imagining he was there with him. He sunk to his knees, letting the water pound against his back as he imagined his partner in front of him, sinking his hands into his wet hair.

_‘Who do you belong to?’_

_‘You, only you.’_ Simon gasped into the small space, eyes tightly shut, imagining dark pressed trousers in front of him. He leaned his forehead against the wall and touched himself. “I don’t want anyone else,” he confessed to the cold tile of the bathroom. “Just you.” He drug his nails up the length of his own thigh, needing to feel something sharp and painful.

_‘You just want to be good, isn’t that right? You wanna be good for Daddy.’_

“Yes, Sir. Yes, Daddy, please,” Simon panted, squeezing around his cock. He imagined Raphael’s designer shoe nudging his knees apart, reaching out between his legs to press up against him. Simon turned his heel in to press behind his balls, grinding his hips down against it. He imagined the smooth leather of the toe, but the sticky rubber of the sole pulling and catching against his skin. He pushed harder against his own heel, circling his hips and fucking up in rabbitty bursts into his hand.

 _‘You’re mine, you’re my fledgling, my baby boy,’_ he wanted to hear, it’s all he wanted to hear.

“Please,” he begged, rolling his forehead against the cold tile, wishing it was the rich firmness of Raphael’s leg.

 _‘You gonna rub yourself off on my leg? Like a little pup?’_ he imagined Raphael brushing wet hair from his forehead. Eyes tightly closed, he imagined that Raphael was looking down at him, with softness and love and possession in his eyes. Simon wanted that so badly, wanted Raphael to love him the way he did, wanted him to keep him for himself. Simon imagined pressing his face to his thigh, grinding down against the toe of his toe, jerking himself off with a harshness that was starting to hurt. He pushed down on his own heel, and pulled hard at his own cock. He wanted this to hurt. He quickly took his other hand and shoved two fingers inside himself, the water doing nothing to slick the way, causing him to cry out.

The suds from Raphael’s soap had started to slip away, but his smell still hung heavy in the air, and Simon could imagine him so perfectly behind his eyes. As he panted and gasped, he felt his head growing small and light; cotton filling the space behind his eyes like it did when he knew he was safe and well cared for. His breath was coming in hiccuppy pants, the word “Daddy” popping out in uncertain intervals as he brought himself off with more and more desperation. He felt small, felt close, so close, and he knew that a single kind look, a single gentle touch from Raphael would shatter him forever.

He came with a shout, ringing in the confines of the shower but nearly silent to him. He drifted through endorphin waves, the image of Raphael going hazy behind his eyelids as he searched for grounding. He didn’t know how long he knelt there, folded at the base of the shower, water trailing down his back, the figment of love in the back of his throat.

Eventually he stood up, on shaky legs, bracing himself heavily against the wall. His hand was shaking as he turned off the water and his head was still spinning as he stepped out. He was grateful that he’d taken to keeping pajamas in the cabinet under the sink, as Raphael sometimes got fidgety when he stepped out in only a towel, and he dried himself with quick but largely ineffective strokes. He scrambled into his pajamas, the fabric catching on his still damp skin, not wanting to be naked and exposed, feeling like wrapping himself up would help stop the shaking.

He walked on weak legs to the door, eager to collapse into bed and wait for Raphael to return, to whimper and beg in quiet tones until he held him close and kissed him sweetly. He was shocked to find Raphael in the room, lingering by the bed. The bathroom was soundproofed and he hadn’t heard him come in.

“Raph,” he gasped, taking an unsteady step towards him. He felt even more off balance when Raphael put a hand up to stop him.

“I think,” Raphael said quietly, folding his hands in front of him. “Perhaps you should sleep in your own room tonight.”

“Raphael,” he breathed, lost. He didn’t understand.

“I would appreciate a little time alone right now, Simon.”

Simon wanted to fight. He wanted to sit down and cry. He wanted to demand that Raphael talk to him, he wanted to tell him what he _needed._

But more than anything he wanted to be good.

“Okay,” he whispered. “Okay.” He grabbed his phone off the bed, and walked out of the room. He stopped breathing. He had nothing to say anyway, so there was no point. He walked on unsteady legs to the elevator and was particularly proud of himself when he stayed standing on the whole ride down to his floor. The air in his room was probably stale and musty, as he hadn’t been in here in weeks. He sat on the edge of his bed and tried not to think. He leaned back against his pillows and tried not to think. He curled up under his blanket and closed his eyes until he was asleep.

He woke up only an hour or two later and realized he was still trembling slighting. His thoughts still felt uncontrolled and spiraling. He realized he was in trouble when he touched his face and his hand came away bloody, even thought he hadn’t even noticed he was crying. Something was wrong and it wasn’t usual insecurity wrong, or even break up wrong. Simon hadn’t felt this poorly since… Camille. Not only had he ingested her blood, but that had also been his first time not getting the kind of aftercare he needed and he’d dropped _hard._ And now he felt the same way.

He didn’t think he could drop from something so small as a masturbation fantasy, but he’d wanted it so badly, and he’d been so high strung, and Raphael had rebuffed him so completely, that he supposed it made sense. Still, it took several attempts in order to type out a coherent message for help.

 

**Clary *fire emoji* *yellow heart* *fire emoji***

| 911, I need help. I’m dropping really bad and Raphael can’t help. I need to get out of the hotel.

 

\ OMG, are you okay? Can I call???

 

**Clary *fire emoji* *yellow heart* *fire emoji***

       | Can’t talk, don’t know who’s listening.

       | I can’t stop shaking.

 

\ You’ll be okay, Simon, I’m calling Magnus and I’m coming to get you.

 

       Say what you will about Clary Fairchild, but Clary Fray had never let him down. And even though she could be a bit of a narcissist, she made time for what she thought was important. And right now, Simon needed that to be him.

Simon didn’t have a particularly steady relationship with time at the moment, but it couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes before he heard the telltale crackle of ozone in the air that signaled the ripping open of a portal in the hallway. He had barely succeeded in dragging himself up to seated before Clary and Izzy were bursting through his door.

“Oh, my God, Simon,” Clary breathed, immediately cupping his face in her hands. He leaned weakly into her touch, feeling completely drained of energy.

“Come on, hermano,” Izzy murmured, low and slow, sliding under his arm and helping him up. A portal roared in the hallway, and Simon was glad Izzy and Clary had a good grip on him because if he’d been asked where he wanted to go most, the portal probably would’ve dumped him in a sobbing heap at Raphael’s feet. Instead, the women brought him into Magnus’ shaded loft.

He sagged heavily onto the sofa, and Clary was quick to guide his head down between his knees. Even though he couldn’t physically hyperventilate anymore, the position was familiar and soothing, and the way she wrapped herself around his back made him start to feel a little more settled.

“What are you feeling?” Clary asked gently, petting over his back and squeezing one of his wrists.

“I’m shaking, and I feel sick, and like I can’t think,” he admitted, his voice small and reedy. “Every time I try to think, I just think about…” He trailed off, the image of Raphael handing him off to another vamp, the memory of Raphael telling him to sleep in a different bed that night, it all just kept circling around and around in his head. Clary didn’t ask, just held him tightly and waited. He didn’t know how long they let him sit there, trying to focus on the soothing rhythm of breathing, but it wasn’t long enough for the questions Magnus’ had for him.

“Stephen, its very important that you tell me whether or not Raphael is okay,” he said, crouched down by his head, a tentative hand hovering over his shoulder. Simon curled away from him, cramping farther in around himself. “If Raphael is in a similar state, if you two had a bad scene, or a fight—”

Simon cut him off.

“Fine,” he said, his voice sounding tight and sharp. “He’s fine.” He pushed his fingers through his hair and tugged. “It’s me, it’s just me. It’s my fault.”

“Oh, Simon, no,” Clary hurried to say, gently trying to pull his hands from his hair, to keep him from ripping out the strands. “I’m sure you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I fucked up,” Simon confessed, words barely riding a whisper. “I thought we were doing great, and he said he didn’t want to see me. I-I,” he gasped, “I just wanted to be good.”

“You are good, Simon, you’re so good,” Clary assured him, running her hands up and down his back in firm, even strokes. “You’re a good man, and you’re very strong and brave, and you always want the best for people.”

Simon let the praise wash over him like an oatmeal bath for an itch that had already rendered him numb. He felt so tired. Hollowed out and empty, he felt like there was nothing left in him. With a lot of coaxing and praise, Izzy got him to finish a small glass of blood though he felt like vomiting, and then Simon slumped over on the couch, curling up with his head in Clary’s lap. Both girls cuddled up to him and stroked him soothingly and whispered sweet things at him until they were hoarse with it. Eventually, the fatigue of such emotional exhaustion drug him under for a restless nap.


	3. Chapter 3

He woke up to a small hand gently shaking his shoulder. Clary was looking down at him gently, seemingly not mad about the few drops of blood now staining her sweater and jeans. She had Magnus’ phone pressed to her shoulder.

“Simon, would it help you to talk to Raphael?” Simon immediately nodded and reached for the phone. She held it away from him, her face pinched with concern. “I explained to him as much as I could, and he knows that he has to be really soft and gentle with you right now, but you’ve already eaten and slept and cuddled and you’re still shaking, so I don’t know what else to do.”

“I wanna talk to him,” Simon said, though he had to clear his throat twice to get the words out. Clary seemed hesitant but she handed him the phone anyway. He pressed it to his ear desperately, needing to hear his partner on the other side. “Raph?”

“Mi amor, what is wrong?” he asked immediately, his voice soft and scared.

“I don’t know,” Simon said softly, closing his eyes. “I don’t know what I did wrong. But tell me, and I’ll fix it.”

“No, querido, no, you didn’t do anything wrong,” Raphael hurried to say, his voice sounding hurt and stressed. An obnoxious voice in the back of Simon’s head told him he was lying.

“You didn’t want to see me. You didn’t want to be near me.” Clary’s hands on his arm and waist tightened and Simon realized he was shivering again. “You gave me to someone else.”

“I thought you would like it, baby. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m so sorry.”

“Can you just tell me that I’m good?” Simon asked, voice barely a whisper, eyes squeezed tight with embarrassment. “And that you love me?”

“Of course I do. Simon, I love you so much,” Raphael said, steady and insistent. “You’re my good little fledgling. Do you want to come home so I can take care of you?”

“Please?” Simon sniffed and rubbed his hand over his face. “Please, I wanna come home.”

“Simon, are you sure you’re ready?” Clary asked and Izzy sucked her teeth in concern, brushing hair out of Simon’s face.

“I need Raph.” He blinked imploringly. She thumbed over the dried blood on his cheek and sighed.

“Alright fine, but you’re going to keep your phone on you and keep me updated on how you’re feeling.”

“Yeah, yes, I will,” he said.

“If he hurts you anymore I will roast him,” she said seriously, and Simon heard Raphael cough awkwardly on the other end of the line. Izzy stood up, dropped a kiss on his forehead and went to get Magnus.

Raphael began a stream of comforting words, mostly in Spanish, the meaning of which Simon caught only by halves but was soothing nonetheless. A few minutes later Magnus was crouching down by his head.

“Hey there, Gumdrop,” he said softly, a tone Simon had never heard directed at him before. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, but I think we would all agree that you shouldn’t go through a portal alone. So Raphael is going to come through to get you, okay?”

“Yeah, thank you,” Simon said, working to sit up and scrubbing his hands over his cheeks. Izzy brought over a warm, damp cloth and helped him clean off his face. She was still petting over his cheeks and combing back the curls of his hair when the crackle of a portal splitting open in the air signaled Raphael’s arrival. As soon as he stepped through, Simon stood and lurched towards him. Before he even had two designer shoes on the floor, he had his arms filled with fledgling.

Burying his face in Raphael’s jacket felt like coming home. Even with how sad and angry he still was, feeling his arms wrap up around him made something in his chest settle and still. He sighed his name, leaning against him with all of his weight.

“Sweet boy,” Raphael murmured into his ear. “My sweet boy.” A shudder ran down Simon’s spine and for the first time all morning it actually felt like a good thing. “I’m so sorry, cariño. Let me take you home.”

“Please, Daddy,” Simon breathed into his neck and felt Raphael go rigid underneath him. If he shoved him away now, Simon didn’t know how he would stay standing. But Raphael’s hands stayed gentle and soft against him, carefully leading him through the groundless energy of the portal until they staggered back into their bedroom. Or, Raphael’s bedroom, as it were. Simon didn’t know how comfortable he was allowed to get here.

But his worries were eased when Raphael herded him toward the bed, sitting him on the edge and pulling one of his own sweaters over his head and helping him into the sleeves, kissing each other his hands as they appeared.

“Do you want to lay down? Do you want to drink something?” Raphael asked, sliding his hands over his face, thumbing under his eyes, rubbing his scent over him.

“I just wanna be with you and talk,” Simon admitted, curling his fists in his lapels. “Please, I just want to hear your voice, and talk about our fight, and I don’t ever want to do this again. Please.”

“Are you sure you want to talk about that now?” Raphael asked, taking himself away from enough to start pulling out of his stiff, expensive clothes. Once he was down to boxers and a t shirt, he climbed in and bundled Simon underneath him, flattening him down with his weight.

“I wanna talk about it now,” Simon said, nodding against him, wrapping his arms up around his waist and pulling him down. “I need to know.”

“What do you want to know, Simon?” he asked, braced on his elbow over him, his fingers scratching through the hair on the side of his head.

“Why did you want Mason to fuck me?” he asked, stroking his thumb over Raphael’s lip. He crossed his legs behind one of Raphael’s, holding him near.

“I thought you would like him,” Raphael told him, pouting his lip out towards him. “I’ve known him for a very long time, he’s a nice vampire. I knew if you didn’t like him that he would never push your or pressure you, and if you did like him I knew he would… please you appropriately.”

“Why would you think I would want that?” Simon’s voice wobbled as he stared up into Raphael’s face. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Raphael murmured, leaning down to brush a kiss over both of his eyelids. “That’s why I invited him. I just want you to be happy, and I thought this was what you needed.”

“I don’t want anyone but you,” Simon said, keeping his eyes shut. “I belong to you.”

“You don’t have to _belong_ to me, Simon,” Raphael said, likely in an effort to be soothing, but it just made Simon whine.

“I want to,” he confessed, his hands going white-knuckled in the material of his shirt. “I want to belong to you. I want to be good for you, I want you to be the only person who can touch me.” Simon’s heart couldn’t beat but it ached in his chest as Raphael silently regarded him.

“Simon, is this related to that name that you called me?” The request was quiet and nonjudgmental, but it still made Simon cringe with embarrassment.

“I, uh,” he stuttered, turning his face away. But his partner was quick to cup his face in his palm, carefully turning it back and meeting him with a gentle kiss.

“Hey, it’s okay, mi sol, you can tell me anything,” he whispered against his lips. “I’m so sorry I hurt you, and I promise I will never do it again. But you have to tell me what I’m supposed to be doing or I will make mistakes.”

“I know, I’m sorry, it’s my fault,” Simon professed morosely, feeling terribly negligent for involving Raphael in a fantasy that he had no control over but which had some terrible effects. “I hate feeling like this.”

“Can you tell me what’s happening to you?” Raphael asked as he carefully rolled them onto their sides, leaning up to drag Simon’s pillow closer and pull the blankets up over them. “Are you warm enough?” Simon nodded against him, burrowing close under his chin. It was nice to be held in his arms again, knowing that he was loved. “Simon,” Raphael prompted after he made no move to answer. Without Raphael looking at his face, studying him, it was easier to admit the truth.

“I dropped,” he said quietly. “It’s a thing that can happen to people if their brain releases too many endorphins and they don’t have the right kind of recovery experience. It makes you feel really bad. Like, physically sick and weak, but also really sad and depressed and stuff.” He fidgeted with Raphael’s shirt, plucking at it with his fingernails, the back of his neck feeling hot. If he still blushed, his face would be bright red.

“And this happened to you because you were with Mason? And he didn’t treat you well?” Raphael asked, and Simon heard the edge of metal in his voice, the sharp anger that hardened his syllables.

“No,” Simon insisted ardently. “I didn’t do anything with him. I left the club. I was mad and angry and fucking pissed off,” he said, nipping at Raphael’s collarbone meanly. “And I came home and I thought about what it would be like to show you how much I belong to you, and how you were it for me, and I got in the shower, and, you know,” Simon trailed off, his wave of anger petering out into regular embarrassment.

“You masturbated so vigorously that you altered your brain chemistry?” Raphael asked, voice colored in disbelief.

“Yeah, well, maybe,” Simon said, pressing his forehead hard into the center of his chest, voice muffled in shame. “I was just really upset, and the thing I thought of felt so real, and I wanted it so much.” His hands clenched again in Raphael’s shirt. “And then. And then you told me to go. And I just wasn’t in the right state of mind to deal with that. So I dropped.”

“I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry,” Raphael soothed, serious and contrite, petting over him with firm strokes of his hands. “I thought you’d been with Mason, and I thought I would be okay with that, but I was more bothered than I had anticipated, and I didn’t want to take that out on you.” Raphael pressed a kiss to the top of his head and Simon let out a shaky exhale. “I was so angry at myself that I’d let someone else touch you, even though I’d done it to make you happy. I didn’t want to be angry at you.”

“Fuck, Raph,” Simon said, pressing himself even closer, the back of his throat feeling dry at knowing that his boyfriend had been angry. And not at him, but at _himself_ , for letting anyone else touch him. “Are you just saying this? To make me feel better? Because it’s working, but like, this is also all I’ve ever wanted to hear from you and I’m going to be really sad if you don’t mean it.”

“Of course I mean it,” Raphael said, his voice too strong to be soothing, too filled with feeling to be a lie. “You are _mine_ , fledgling. I thought I could share you if it kept you happy, and I knew I’d been terrible to you all week and I wanted to cheer you up.”

“I just wanted to be with you,” Simon said, biting back the sweet name he wanted to call him. “I just wanted to spend time with you. I told you that.”

“I know, my love, I know,” Raphael hummed, holding him close and breathing in the smell of him. They were quiet for a moment. Simon was content to soak in the small pocket of protection and appreciation his partner had created for him. Simon pressed a kiss to his throat, feeling the ball of it shift as he swallowed against his lips. Raphael eased himself away enough to bring their faces level, and he silenced Simon’s protesting whine with a kiss.

It was slow and it was sweet, almost lazy. Raphael moved with an insistent gentleness, and Simon let himself be led. He sighed, going completely limp in his boyfriend’s arms, letting him take from his mouth however he wished. He let his mouth be soft and his exhales all came on the backs of whimpers. He couldn’t even bring himself to pull at Raphael’s shirt or back; he was completely at his mercy. And Raphael provided. Long, lingering kisses turned deep and wet, Raphael responding to the open acceptance of his fledgling’s mouth. His hands ran over him possessively, touching him everywhere, making shudders run though the younger boy. When Simon’s fangs dropped down in his mouth, Raphael pulled back with a few, gentle kisses.

“How do you feel now?” he asked, brushing a damp kiss over the delicate skin under his eye.

“Amazing,” Simon sighed, truly feeling liquid and boneless. “Thank you, D—” He stopped just in time, swallowing it down. Raphael noticed.

“Tell me about that, baby,” he murmured, running his fingers back through his hair.

“I,” he stalled, looking down. “It’s not entirely sexual,” he began, not wanting to make his partner uncomfortable. “It’s a lot of things, like the way you take care of me and treat me like I’m small.” He looked up from under his lashes. “I like that.” Raphael looked contemplative, instead of completely put off, and Simon took that as encouragement. He curled their legs together and balled his hands up under his chin, taking a deep breath to continue. “It makes me feel good, when you take care of me. And it makes me want to be good, so you’ll be happy with me.” He stopped, giving Raphael a moment to respond. He was still observing him pensively.

“Keep talking, I want to know more.” He had one hand still sliding up and down Simon’s back, and so he did as he was told.

“I like it when you dress me up in your clothes, and when you let me sit in your lap. I like it when you touch me like this and call me ‘baby’ and other little names like that, and I like it when you say I’ve been a good boy.” He shuddered, his voice catching in embarrassment. Raphael just leaned closer and kissed him slowly again, before pulling away.

“More. Tell me more.”

“I like bringing you blood, and when you make that little hum, then I know I did a good job,” he said, his voice growing breathless and strained. “I like when I can sit by your desk and you pet my hair.” He squirmed closer, pressing himself bodily against his partner. “Fuck, I like it when I make you laugh, and when you snark at me for being bratty. I like doing things to make you happy and doing things to rile you up.” He whined in the back of his throat, his eyes drifting closed. “I like it when you train me and tell me I did well. When you’re rough with me,” he continued quietly. “When you bite me and push me into things.” He pushed his hips into his thigh, held between his when he crossed his ankles behind it. Raphael’s hand was shaking as it carded through his hair. “I like it when you’re soft and tired and you say I’m a good fledgling, and you kiss me like all you want to do is take care of me.”

Simon realized he was hard, his breath was coming fast, and he was clutching at his partner. Raphael realized it to.

“You said it wasn’t sexual,” he said, still managing to sound calm and in control.

“It’s not,” Simon promised, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. “Like, those things aren’t all sexual for me.”

“But you’re hard,” Raphael observed, his voice growing a little strained.

“That’s because you’re making me tell you and it’s embarrassing.”

“You’re aroused by embarrassment?”

“Sometimes,” Simon said, his voice breaking as his cock twitched. Simon held his breath, trying to get his body under control, but it didn’t help when Raphael ghosted an exhale across the side of his face, shifting even closer against him, letting his thigh slide further between his own.

“What do you think about?” he asked, his lips brushing over his ear. “When you touch yourself?”

“Fuck, Raph,” Simon whined, trying to keep his hips from twitching, knowing that he didn’t have permission. “I think about you.”

“Fucking you? Simon, you know I can’t do that,” he said tightly. Simon shook his head, pressing their foreheads together.

“Watching me, telling me what to do,” he admitted, his briefs growing wet around the head of his cock, his nails lengthening and beginning to prick holes through Raphael’s shirt. Raphael paused.

“Do I touch you?” he asked, his hand tightening in his hair.

“Sometimes,” Simon gasped.

“Do I hurt you?”

“I want you to,” Simon breathed, eyes blinking wetly. “But it’s hard to imagine, because I can’t do it myself. But, fuck, I want you to.”

“How?” Raphael asked, cupping Simon’s face and watching his carefully. “How would you want me to hurt you?” Simon’s whole body seized from the pressure of not being able to thrust forward; his lungs felt tight and his head felt empty.

“You could hit me, you could burn me,” he panted, eyes wide and brow pinched as he was pinned by Raphael’s gaze. “I wish you could choke me. I wish I had to breathe just so you could make me stop.” Raphael’s eyes widened in shock, and Simon closed his tightly, pulling at his t shirt. “Fuck, Raph, why are you doing this to me?” he whined, his muscles beginning to ache with how desperately he was holding onto his control. It was quiet for a few rushing breaths, before Raphael finally answered him.

“I like it,” he said, simply, as if it were surprising even to him. “I like how desperate you are for me,” he said lowly, words falling from his lips like lava scorching Simon’s brain. “I love taking care of you, I love how much you want to please me. And,” he cleared his throat. “I think I would like making you feel good, like that.”

Simon’s back bowed, and he buried his face in his chest, his stomach contracting as his dick pulsed a thick glob of precome into his pants. He gasped, brain fuzzy and blank.

“You,” he panted, “you don’t have to say that.”

“Baby, I want to,” Raphael growled into his hair, his hand running down his side until he grabbed his hipbone with bruising strength. Simon moaned when he drug him close, pulling him up his thigh and keeping him there with an arm around his waist. “You’ve been such a good boy, holding back. But you can let go, baby. Be a good boy and let go.”

Simon came. Immediately, just from the pressure of Raphael’s body against him and the weight of _permission_. With a choked, garbled, “Daddy” falling into the scant space between them, Simon clutched at him and pulsed in his pants, jaw hung open and eyes unseeing. Raphael hummed, that hum that he did when he sipped warm blood, the hum when Simon kissed him softly, that ‘I’m proud of you’ hum, and Simon thought he would just combust. His panting was so loud and embarrassing that he just held his breath, waiting for the ringing in his head to subside, focusing on the gentle rhythm of Raphael’s hand rubbing circles over his hip, his other arm pushing underneath Simon’s neck.

“How are you feeling?” Raphael asked after a few minutes. Simon croaked wordlessly and Raphael chuckled. “Would it be inappropriate for me to tell you that I think semen is disgusting?” Simon huffed an exhausted laugh against his throat.

“Not if it means you’re offering to clean me up,” he said, letting his eyelashes flutter against his jaw.

“I most certainly am not,” Raphael growled, but it was good-natured and paired with a kiss against his forehead. Simon tipped his face up, lips parted, silently begging. Raphael made him wait for a few seconds before giving in and kissing him smoothly. Simon’s clinging grip loosened as he was gentled down with kind kisses and Raphael’s hand came up to curl around one of his own.

“I think we have a lot to discuss,” Raphael said quietly against his lips. “But I think we can make this work.”

“I love you so much,” Simon breathed against him, overwhelmed by his luck and his love.

“I love you too, my sweet boy,” Raphael murmured, smirking when Simon shivered. “Daddy loves you very much.” Raphael laughed when he groaned, high and delighted, and Simon thought that they could absolutely make this work.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> raph doms the fuck out of his little boy. that's it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know, fam. I've been in a writing slump lately. this is what happened. my b

The next few days went by blissfully, with Raphael softly indulging Simon in all the doting and care he liked. It surprised Simon how easily Raphael fell into the role, even being able to suss apart which gestures Simon found arousing and which he did not. Having Raphael casually hand him his toothbrush, toothpaste already loaded onto it, made Simon’s morning frown fade away at being so well taken care of. Having Raphael tug off his sweatshirt in the training room and tossing the order “Show Daddy what you can do,” casually over his shoulder made the heavy scent of arousal bloom through the closed space.

Raphael also seemed to get off on the Daddy thing itself. Not sexually, of course, but that posh, sophisticated part of him that had been so long clamoring for his own command, the part of him that wanted to be powerful, feared and respected, that part of him preened every time Simon lowered his gaze with a soft “yes, Daddy.” He did it in front of the clan, to Simon’s immense embarrassment and pleasure, ordering him to be a good boy and go get something for Daddy. Simon tried to hide his blushing face and swelling cock and did as he was told, shivering under the praise of a job well done. The clan looked on, a pretty even mix of uncomfortable, aroused and exasperated. Simon didn’t care though, not when Raphael had that smug grin on his face and Simon knew he’d helped put it there.

Lily thought it was hilarious, sidling up to him in the training room once and whispering under her breath that she knew it all along. When she came into the office to talk business, she was so accustomed to Simon kneeling behind Raphael’s desk that she would often ask him if they were alone, just in case. Not that he was doing anything special back there. Raphael now knew how much Simon liked sitting at his feet, cheek pressed to his knee, having his hair played with.

Raphael had fun with it, too. It wasn’t always a job, or a power trip, it was also enjoyable for the older vamp. In fact, Raphael found it far too amusing. He would say something purposely provocative, something he knew would get Simon to react, and then smirk at him when he did exactly what was expected. Simon grumbled about the bravery with which his partner wielded this newfound weapon, but honestly he was just happy that it was something Raphael felt comfortable teasing him with. He hadn’t expected much to come out of that night, that singular orgasm, and what he’d already gotten had far exceeded even his most ambitious dreams.

So when Stan told Simon that Raphael wanted him in his office, he wasn’t expecting anything special.

“What’s up, boss?” he asked, strolling through the door, flicking his eyes up from his phone with a friendly smile.

“Close the door,” was all Raphael said. Simon paused. The office door was seldom closed; closing it made the room soundproof to vampire hearing, and in the spirit of transparency, Raphael usually left it open, something Camille had never done. Simon took a few slow steps backwards and eased the door shut, keeping a wary eye on his partner, trying to figure out what was wrong.

“Everything okay?” he asked as the clicked shut. Raphael wasn’t looking at him, simply cleaning his nails with a wicked looking paperknife.

“Lock it,” Raphael ordered without looking up. Simon did as he was told, holding his breath. “If I wanted to hurt you,” Raphael began casually, “would you prefer I contrived a sort of punishment?”

Simon’s gulp was audible in the room.

“I don’t know,” he said, after a few moments of silence, prompted by Raphael’s raised brow. “Have I been bad?” Raphael tipped his head to the side and regarded him critically.

“No, you’ve been a lovely boy,” he finally said, his face not softening a fraction. A shiver ran down Simon’s spine and he found himself holding his breath again. He cleared his throat.

“So maybe, a reward?” Simon suggested breathlessly, taking slow steps towards his partner.

“Would you like that?” Raphael asked quietly, putting the knife down on the desk and leaning back in his chair, hands crossed over his stomach.

“Yes,” Simon gasped, taking another shuddering step towards him. “Please, Daddy.”

A small smile quirked the corner of Raphael’s lip.

“Then why don’t you come here and bend over my desk?”

“Fuck, oh fuck,” Simon gasped, stepping quickly around the ornate chairs. He rushed to the side of the large oak desk, still littered with papers and other ornaments. Eyes on his Daddy’s face, taking in every piece of information that was offered to him, Simon accidently knocked over a fancy penholder. Raphael’s hand smacked down against his ass in a flash, too fast to be seen and stinging even through the layers of cloth. Simon wheezed.

“Don’t make a mess, baby,” Raphael murmured, standing up from his chair slowly. “Or this reward might become a punishment anyway.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Simon answered immediately, his skin still burning from the strike. He carefully planted his hands on clear parts of the desk around the laptop and locked his elbows. Raphael rewarded him with five swats, lighter than the first but enough to make Simon bite his lip. He could tell he was warming him up.

“That’s a good boy. Now, take of your clothes,” Raphael ordered, turning away from him again to sit down in his chair. Simon did as he asked, carefully folding every article and leaving them in the seat of the chair across the desk. Everything he was wearing was Raphael’s, having been dressed by him this morning. When he was completely naked, half hard cock hanging between his legs, he turned to Raphael with red cheeks. “Good boy,” Raphael asked. “Clean off my desk.”

Simon did so quietly, cheeks flushing further under his cold pallor as he awkwardly shuffled around his fully clothed and seemingly disinterested partner, sat in the chair and observing him coolly. When the last paper was carefully slid into the correct folder in the correct drawer, Simon looked at his boyfriend from under his lashes.

“Bottom left drawer, false bottom. Open it,” Raphael said, letting his gaze roll slowly down the length of Simon’s lanky, pale form. Simon bent to do as he said, unable to resist the instinct to arch his back and put on a show, even if he knew Raphael probably wouldn’t appreciate it. Carefully shifting a stack of clan stationary aside, Simon pulled a tab to open a false bottom, one he hadn’t known about before. His breath caught in his throat and he coughed around spit.

“Bring it out, show it to me,” Raphael said, voice as steady and dispassionate as before. With shaking hands and an aching cock, Simon reached in and fit his hand around the familiar black silicon, grabbing the tube of lube as well. He held it out to Raphael for inspection, not meeting his eye. “Tell me what this is,” Raphael ordered.

“It’s my toy, Daddy,” Simon said, voice cracking.

“Didn’t Daddy teach you to share your toys?” Raphael said lowly, staring at Simon with a cold intensity. A shiver ran down his spine and his knees felt weak.

“Yes, Daddy,” he agreed, not sure where it was going but knowing that his head already felt heavy and his dick was full and hot.

“So why don’t you show me how you use it?” Raphael suggested, a slow smile creeping over his face. “Get on the desk. Get yourself ready.”

Simon scrambled to comply, banging his knee painfully against the edge as he clambered up, silicon dildo still clenched in his fist. He licked the bottom without being asked, stuck it to the lacquered wood and slid a palmful of lube over the length. He perched on top of it, thighs spread, hand reaching behind him to press the slicked tip against his hole. Then he looked up to his Daddy and waited.

For the first time, a flicker of indecision passed over Raphael’s face.

“Don’t you need to… prepare yourself?” he asked, a little bit of the confidence leaving his voice.

“No, Daddy, I’m ready,” Simon insisted, his free hand clenching against the edge of the desk.

“I—” Raphael stuttered, now fully unsure. “I understand that it is… unpleasant, if not properly prepared for.” It was a statement but it ended like more of a question and something in Simon’s heart fluttered at the idea that Raphael had done his research for him.

“Yeah, it’ll hurt,” he sighed, being a bad boy and stroking over his hole with the head of the toy.

“And you want that?” Raphael asked cautiously.

“Please, Daddy,” Simon nodded fiercely. “You said I was good,” he whined, hips twitching with the need to impale himself. Raphael stood suddenly and stepped up to him. With Simon kneeling on his desk, he was a head shorter than the boy, but he grabbed him around the back of the neck and yanked him down to eye level.

“It will hurt you?” Simon nodded. “And you want it?” Simon nodded again, a whimper shaking out of his lips. “Tell me why.”

“It hurts a lot,” Simon confessed breathlessly. “But it feels so good. Makes it feel big and hot and it fills me up so much it’s all I can think about. Head goes quiet. All I can do it feel it.”

“You heal quickly?” Raphael asked, and over the buzzing in his head, Simon detected a sweet note of worry in his voice. He touched his cheek with his clean hand and leaned their foreheads together.

“Very quickly,” he said, trying to make his voice sound as clear and in control as possible. “I couldn’t do it when I was human, then it was too much. Now, now it’s fucking perfect, Raph.”

A hand slapped down over his ass.

“Language,” Raphael smirked against his gasping mouth before kissing him briefly. He took half a step back and the firm stature of dominance overtook him again. “Alright then,” he said, more for himself than for the boy, naked and quivering on his desk. “You have my permission. Go ahead.”

Simon sunk down as quickly as his protesting body would allow, the reflexive clench of his muscles causing the intrusion to ache and burn as it split him wide. He gasped, open-mouthed, at the ceiling, bloody tears leaking from his eyes before his body settled, shuddering and quivering against the top of the desk. When he blinked the blood from his eyes and recovered from the wave of rushing endorphins, his head swung limply from his weak neck. His muscles shook everywhere, and the toy inside him felt hot and swollen as his body tried to flex around it. If he were human he would be layered in sweat and heaving for breath. As it was, his cheeks were a little tacky from blood when he finally raised his head to meet his partner’s eye.

Raphael was staring at him intensely. The cold dispassion was gone from his gaze, replaced instead with a boiling heat, the kind Simon never thought he would see from him. His eyes were flickering wildly over his shaking form, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. When he saw him watching him, he stepped up to the edge of the desk and grabbing his face in both hands. He pulled him into a fierce kiss, one that was mostly fangs cutting into his lips and growls.

“You really like this,” Raphael gasped into his mouth, loosing a bit of his act as he was overcome by the reality of it. “You take pain so well. I could do anything to you and you’d thank me for it.” Simon whimpered into his lips, brain emptying completely, only white noise and instinct remaining.

“Yes, Daddy, yes please,” he sighed, eyes drifting closed as he leaned into his partner’s weight. “Let me be good.”

In a flash, Raphael’s hand was around his throat, squeezing tightly and lifting him up. Simon’s body was as limp as a kitten and he mewled like one when Raphael drew him bodily up the plastic cock. And then with a sharp release, he let him fall back down. Simon relished in the cold thwap of the flesh of his ass and thighs smacking against the desk as he swallowed the toy again. The pain of the balls pressing against his rim and the ache of it spreading him open deep inside set exquisite bursts of pain and pleasure up with spine and out of his mouth in pitiful moans. Raphael did it again, a firm, unshaking hand around his throat manually pulling his body up and down the long shaft of the toy.

Simon’s eyes were open but unseeing, rolled mostly back into his head as his body was wracked with pleasure, the privilege of not having to think or even move so incredibly freeing that he let himself fall completely limp in his partner’s control. The iron grip around his throat was his only tether to the earth, the only source of strength that kept him riding the toy. His ears were ringing and he didn’t have the capacity to care that the head of the dick wasn’t scraping his prostate; he was wrapped so tightly around the toy that every movement felt like fiery pleasure anyway.

He was so out of it, that he didn’t hear Raphael calling his name until he was shaken by the neck like a naughty puppy. He blinked his eyes and fought for coherency.

“Simon,” Raphael said, releasing his grip on his throat to stroke over the bruise that was forming there. “How do you feel?”

“So good, Daddy,” he gasped, gripping at the front of his partner’s shirt with both hands, crumpling the fine fabric. “You make me feel so good.”

“I’m so glad, my sweet boy,” Raphael murmured, pressing his cool lips to Simon’s cheek and forehead. The praise made him clench tightly around the toy inside him, wrenching a whine from his sore throat. “Do you want me to keep hurting you?”

“Yes, Daddy, please, oh go—” Simon choked but barely even noticed, so out of his mind with pleasure. “Please, I’ve been a good boy, I’ve been so good.”

“Yes, sweetie, yes you have,” Raphael said against his temple. “How do you want your reward, for being my best little fledgling?”

Simon squirmed, his liquid muscles taking shape again to writhe around the dick splitting him open, back curving to allow him to press his face to the hollow under his partner’s throat.

“Hit me,” he begged when he had his hips positioned so that any movement would grind his prostate against the silicon head. “Please Daddy, hit me and tell me I’m good.”

And Raphael did. Looking partly in awe and partly crazed, he wrapped his fist around Simon’s throat again and brought the flat of his palm down hard on the pale meat of his ass, again and again. Simon whimpered, but it was choked by the grip on his throat so he just hung there, a slave to the pleasure, face pressed into Raphael’s chest, shaking with each raining impact.

“You’re such a good boy, Simon,” Raphael murmured, actually sounding out of breath. “You’re my good boy.”

Another harsh smack cracked over the raw and tender skin, low where his ass met his thigh, jolting him down the cock still pinning him open and Simon came with a sudden and shuddering gasp. His body felt at once like it was smoldering in flames and like it was as light as air, and Simon shattered apart brilliantly against his partner’s chest.

Simon resurfaced after what seemed like an age, his orgasm entirely draining and his body tired and sore. Raphael held him still, hand gentle at the back of his head, dick still lodged in his ass. He told him he was back by nuzzling into his chest and releasing his clenched fists from the fabric of his ruined shirt. Raphael tried to step back, but Simon latched onto him, a low protesting whine spilling out of his lips. His body barely felt connected anymore.

“Daddy,” he groaned, or tried. His jaw felt loose and clumsy and he was suddenly so tired.

“Hush, dear, you did well,” Raphael assured him, running his hand through his hair. “What do you need?”

“Down,” Simon grumbled, trying to coax his shaking thighs into movement, wanting to be free of the now uncomfortable weight inside him. Raphael scooped him up into his arms and deposited him on the floor. He leaned him back against the cool wood of he desk and knelt down in front of him, seemingly waiting for the next suggestion. “Cuddle?” Simon asked, prying his tired eyes open just in time to see Raphael look down at his naked skin and wrinkle his nose. Simon poked his lip out sadly. “Raph,” he whined petulantly, making grabbing hands at him. “You can’t fuck me senseless and then not cuddle me. ‘S against the rules.”

“You’re filthy,” Raphael protested, pushing to his feet and walking around the desk.

“It’s just a little bit of jizz,” Simon complained, leaning his head back against the drawers, so tired he didn’t even move when a knob poked rudely at the back of his neck.

“Any bit is too much,” Raphael muttered, coming back to him and dropping his pile of clothes next to him. He grabbed the boxers and held them up in front of his face. “These are yours now,” he said pointedly, before dropping them on the worst of the mess. Simon chuckled weakly and moved to wipe his skin clean, dragging the grey fabric over the streaks on his stomach until it was mostly black and he was mostly clean. As soon as that was done, Raphael was back, bundling him back into his clothes and pressing dry kisses to every inch of his face and neck. As soon as he was presentable, buttons buttoned and tie tied, Raphael pulled him up to standing and nudged him towards the slimy toy sticking to his desk.

“Deal with that, mi amor,” he said, pressing a kiss to his ear and keeping his hands out as Simon’s legs quivered and shook.

“Mkay,” Simon said easily, unsticking the toy and knocking it and the lube into the bottom drawer before kicking in shut. He turned back to his partner with a victorious grin. Raphael was not amused.

“No,” he said shortly.

“C’mon, Raph, I’ll clean it up later,” Simon insisted, stepping back into his space with shaky legs, draping his arms over his partner’s shoulders. He leaned his weight down against him and Raphael sighed before hugging him back.

“Only this once,” he said, smoothing his hands up and down his partner’s back and Simon grinned into his shoulder, pressing a grateful kiss into the fabric of the jacket he had never taken off.

 

 

A few minutes later found Simon stepping out of the shower and into a robe held open by his partner’s steady hand. Once he was bundled up and directed to the bed, Raphael changed brusquely into comfier clothes and joined up, spooning up behind the taller boy.

“How was it?” Simon found the nerve to ask. “Was it okay?” Raphael hesitated before answering.

“It was different than I thought it would be,” he finally admitted.

“Bad?” Simon asked, biting his lip.

“No, just different.” Raphael pressed a kiss to the back of his neck and Simon could tell he was considering his next words carefully. “I enjoyed it more than I thought,” he said, and Simon let out a sigh of relief. Raphael chuckled lightly behind him. “It was somehow less… physical than I was imagining,” Raphael said slowly, choosing his words carefully. “I felt like I was taking care of you on a deeper level. Mentally, emotionally.” Simon wormed around in his grip to snuggle his face against his chest, humming in agreement. “Like your body was just a tool to do it,” Raphael mused, more to himself that Simon. “And I could do anything to you,” he said, a light shake running through his frame. Simon grinned against him.

“You like that,” he observed. “Big ol’ scary vampire, tossing around his nubile baby fledgling.” Raphael snorted. “You like it, Daddy.”

“Maybe a bit,” he conceded. “More than I thought.”

“Please,” Simon scoffed, wiggling his legs closer to tangle with his lover’s. “The power trip is your favorite part about this. Next you’ll be making me call you Sir, or Master.”

“Hmm,” Raphael hummed consideringly. “It does have a nice ring to it.” Simon bit him on the collarbone, a warning nip. “Fine, just Daddy will suffice.” Simon hummed and closed his eyes again, trying to drift into a nap. “Well, actually,” Raphael spoke up again after a few moments of quiet. Simon groaned and grumbled, pulling back to glare up at him. He’d almost been asleep. Raphael looked a little unsure as he met his eyes. “Maybe, perhaps,” he said slowly. “Papí?”

Simon choked on his spit before launching himself at him, hands gripping into his hair and mouth pressing in a desperate kiss.

“Yes, fucking yes,” he groaned against him. “Next time I want you to spit in my mouth and slap my face, Papí, please.” This time it was Raphael’s turn to choke. “I want you to leave the door open while you shove your favorite wine glass inside of me so everyone can hear me screaming it, Papí, Papí, Papí,” Simon moaned, relishing in the shiver his words earned.

“Jesus Christ in heaven,” Raphael groaned, pushing Simon away from him and covering his face with his hand. “You’re filthy. Demented.”

“Only for you, Papí,” Simon grinned widely, wrapping him up in a hug. “Only for you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment and tell me what your favorite part was!
> 
> You can follow me on tumblr if you want more of my trash existence. I'm [ definitelynotadulting ](http://definitelynotadulting.tumblr.com/)


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